Blood is the Color of a Sunset
by Shadows of a Girl
Summary: Edward has gone missing and Alphonse and Mustang are determined to find him. Be prepared for torture, graphic violence, gore, and many adult themes.
1. Prologue: It Begins

This is my first time posting on this site, so I'm sort of stumbling along here, trying to figure out how it works. If you notice that I've done anything wrong, please let me know.

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**Spoilers for pretty much anything in the manga and anime.**

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I was inspired to write this story after episode 47 of Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, in which Pride takes over Al's armor in an attempt to trick Edward. It's a bit AU because I don't intend on following any sort of path that the story has followed since that point, but I suppose it might contain certain aspects of the story up until that point. I cannot promise any sort of romantic involvement between characters, as I am not entirely sure where this story will be going, but if that were to be the case it would probably end up being Roy and Ed.

**Warning**: This story will involve graphic violence and gore. There will be torture and severe situations that some people might be uncomfortable with. Please do not read the story if graphic violence, blood, possible rape, and serious pain and injury are offensive to you.

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**Prologue ****-** It Begins

He cannot see anything but darkness and for a moment, he believes that he has gone blind. The thought quickly fades, however, when his eyes adjust to the shadows and he can make out faint angles and depths within the darkness. The last time he'd been anywhere so consumed by blackness, he'd awoken to such shattering grief after losing his limbs that he'd barely been able to breathe through it.

Once he got passed the initial shock of seeing nothing, he groggily came out of the fog that had enveloped him and was aware of the immense pain searing through his body. His leg and arm felt as if they had been ripped off all over again and he swore he could feel blood pouring from the gaping wounds. If only the pain weren't deafening and making him unable to focus on anything else, maybe he'd be able to listen for the sound of blood dripping onto the ground.

The more conscious he became, the more pain he seemed to be in. He couldn't quite fathom the concept; logically, the pain should make him less aware and slowly cause him to become unconscious, not the other way around. He wanted to scream, to beg for help, but he couldn't find the strength to open his mouth, let alone make any sort of sound through his trembling lips.

After what felt like hours, and very well may have been, he somehow adjusted to the pain. It still shocked him, the burning that coursed through his body from whatever injuries he had sustained, but he was able to focus on other things. He could tell that he was floating somehow, hanging from something attached to a ceiling that was out of his vision. His weight was evenly distributed so it was difficult for him to decipher exactly how he was hung.

He couldn't remember anything. All he remembered was finally seeing Al, after an entire summer of separation, and the relief that had flooded him at finding out that his brother was okay. Where was Al, now? What had happened to his brother? What had caused him to end up wherever he was, in such immense agony? How had it happened? He could remember nothing but darkness and shadows.

Edward wanted to cry. He didn't recall the last time he had felt so lost and helpless and hopeless all at once. He could not move – all of his defenses had been taken away from him – and he could barely breathe. Whoever, or whatever, had done this to him had wanted him immobile and weak. They had succeeded. He had never felt so terrified before. He didn't even know what had happened to his brother or his friends. Were they okay? How would he save everyone if he didn't even know if they were well enough to be saved? How could he when he couldn't even move, couldn't even speak?

After the pain, all he could think about was what could have happened to his brother. Whoever, or whatever, had done this to him must have known how to capture him and how to restrain him. Did they also know what Alphonse's weakness was? Could they know about the blood seal and how important it was? He was sure that nothing had happened to his brother; they were too closely connected for him to not feel a debilitating grief were something to happen to him, but the thought still terrified him.

He had to figure out how to get out of this. The pain would eventually numb him and then he might be able to –

Suddenly, there was a blinding light and he quickly shut his eyes. Now he was blinded by crimson light seeming to seep through his eyelids and the abruptly bright onslaught burned and made his skull throb and ache. How long had he been without light for his eyes to become so sensitive and react so strongly? He absolutely had to do something to save himself. He wouldn't die like this, not without knowing if Alphonse was okay or not. Not without getting Alphonse's body back. He wouldn't. He _couldn't_.


	2. Chapter One: The Story

******Please note that there are possible spoilers in this story for anything in the manga and anime.**

******This is my first time using this website, so please be understanding and let me know if I do anything wrong so that I can fix it.**

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My story does not have a beta. Please feel free to alert me to any mistakes that I have made.

I am not intending on following any story line from the manga/anime, but I will use bits and pieces of it to fill in certain things. Please feel free to decide when, where, and how this story takes place for yourself.

This story will involve severe adult themes including, but not limited to, violence, gore, and rape. If these themes are problematic for you, please do not continue reading this story.

I do not own, nor am I in any way affiliated with, Fullmetal Alchemist or its creators.

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**Chapter One** – The Story

Alphonse did not know who to go to. He had no idea where anyone was – save for one person – and he was not entirely sure that Mustang would be able to help him. Everybody was so busy with their plans of action – Al was supposed to be busy with _his_ own plan of action – that he wasn't sure there _was_ anybody who could help him. He didn't even know where to start, though, and he was becoming frantic. His mind was too jumbled for him to think clearly to figure out how to find his brother. He was too worried, too terrified, and for once he was ready to ask somebody to aid him.

He found himself outside of the Colonel's office door before he even registered the fact that he had walked there and into Central Headquarter's main doors. Al had been too busy going over the sequence of events that had led up to him waking up in an antique store, too busy desperately trying to ignore all of the images of terrible things that could happen to his brother, and too busy wishing, not for the first time, that he could just _cry_. He really needed help this time. This was too close, too personal, and probably too dangerous for him to attempt on his own. He just hoped that Mustang was the right person.

His knock was quiet and timid, but it was obviously heard because Riza Hawkeye opened the door quickly. She looked very surprised to see him standing there and looked him over briefly before standing to the side so he could enter the first office. "Alphonse," she said, still staring at him as if she could somehow find out why he was there by sheer will of mind.

"I need to speak to the Colonel," he told her. Maybe after Mustang knew what was going on, they would tell Hawkeye, but he wanted the advice of the Colonel before he went around telling everybody what had happened.

She nodded her head, still staring at him, before she finally tore her gaze away and went to Mustang's door and knocked. She opened it without a reply from him and then closed it behind her when she went into the main office, leaving Alphonse to wait alone in the small room. He didn't see any reason for Mustang to refuse his visit, but he was suddenly nervous that it would be the outcome.

After only a minute, the door opened again and Mustang and Hawkeye came out together. Hawkeye returned to her desk, eyeing the two men – because Alphonse could not be called a _child_ when he towered over almost everyone – and they silently shook hands before walking into Mustang's office. Alphonse closed the door behind him and Mustang took note that what they were going to discuss was something to be shared in privacy; Al never cared too much if doors were left open unless something very serious was happening.

Mustang sat at his desk and Alphonse remained standing because he was too preoccupied to think about putting other people at ease by participating in human mannerisms. The Colonel waited a moment, giving Al the opportunity to sit or speak, but when neither occurred, he asked, "What brings you to see me? And why are you alone?"

Alphonse sighed, the sound echoing inside of his armor. When he spoke, his voice sounded pained and Mustang could tell that the words were difficult for him to say. "Edward is missing," he managed quietly. "I don't know what happened to him."

Mustang furrowed his brows and considered the confession for a moment. Alphonse had not seen his brother for quite a while, as they had all been in separate groups, but they had all been in secret contact with one another somehow. Al couldn't have been talking about that and if he were, he would have contacted Mustang much sooner. He knew that Al must be speaking of something that had happened more recently, and he felt a sudden chill of fear in his stomach, wondering what had happened to Ed.

"How do you know that he's missing?" Mustang asked him after a moment of silence.

Alphonse paused only briefly before deciding that if he was going to trust the Colonel with this information, he could trust him with anything. "I've been having moments, sir, when I lose consciousness. Edward warned me that this would happen, that there would come a time that my soul would begin to reject the armor because it's not where it belongs. There are times, and sometimes they are just minutes but other times they are hours, where I am not here. And during one of those instances, I believe that someone or something took over the armor and somehow got into contact with Brother…and during that time, they captured him."

"How can you be so sure?" Mustang asked cautiously, not wanting to insult the young man, but seriously wondering his conviction on the events.

"I just _know_," Alphonse told him. "I can _feel_ that something isn't right. He's not where he's supposed to be and he's not. He's not _okay_."

Al and Ed had never been able to properly explain the connection that they had because of Edward binding Al's soul to the armor with his own blood and because of whatever else had happened that night, in that place with the huge doors. It was there, though, an underlying bond that tied them together deeper than anything anybody else could probably understand, and it alerted them when something was _very_ seriously wrong. And something was very seriously wrong. "You have to believe me," Alphonse whispered to Mustang. "I just _know_ and I'm terrified. You're the only one I could ask to help me."

"Of course I will help you," Mustang said softly, staring down at his hands as he thought about the situation. He felt very afraid for Edward after hearing Alphonse's almost tearful plea. He knew that they shared a very unique connection, though he didn't quite understand how or why, but he was willing to believe that Alphonse truly could feel that there was something off about Edward's situation. Whatever it was, it had the younger Elric brother frantic and if Mustang were to think logically, he knew that he had to have both of the Elric brothers alive and well in order to defeat Father when the time came.

If he were to think slightly illogically, he would feel the familiar protectiveness that he always felt when it came to Edward Elric. He knew the boy was strong, knew that he was a genius and could take care of himself just fine, but he couldn't help the overwhelming urge to want to help and protect him at all costs. Sure, he'd put him in the line of fire on more than a few occasions, but there was always someone there to make sure that the alchemist and his brother were not injured. He always made sure he was safe, but he'd always wanted to give Edward as much success as possible so that he could feel _good_ about the efforts he was making, and sometimes that involved a little danger. Mustang had always felt a little pride, too, when Edward unfailingly prevailed without the need of hidden security to aid him.

Mustang looked back up, meeting Alphonse's glowing eyes that had once brought respectful fear to him, but he now found unexplainably calming. "So you have no idea where your brother is?"

"No," Alphonse confirmed, casting the glow down to the ground, but never moving his head. Mustang had never seen Al behave so unlike a human, but he supposed that the situation didn't call for it.

"Tell me everything that you remember," Mustang said. "Then we'll go from there."

Alphonse nodded and took a moment to think about the entire situation, before telling the story. He told Mustang about what he had done for the winter, the plans that he and his comrades had come up with that he knew they were still working on because they would have had faith in Al's ability to overcome whatever obstacles he faced and they knew that the bigger picture was more important. He told him about Gluttony and Pride attacking him once he'd finally woken up, after his soul had returned to the armor, and how they had captured him.

"I don't know when my soul left again," Alphonse admitted. "But there was a long amount of time when I was no longer in the armor, and then suddenly I was in an antique shop alone, after my soul had returned, and I could just _feel_ that something wasn't right with Edward."

Mustang had been taking notes on everything that Alphonse said, hoping that something would give him some sort of clue as to what had happened to Edward, and he looked up when Alphonse finished his tale. "So we'll have to start at the antique shop," he said, mostly to himself. Maybe the shop keeper would remember something suspicious or there would be a clue of some sort. Maybe there would be _something_ that would point them in the proper direction. He looked at Al for a moment, wondering if it was in all of their best interests if he went on this quest with the younger Elric brother. When he decided that he had no other choice, that his heart would allow nothing else, he asked, "Do you remember where it is? How to get there?"


	3. Chapter Two: First Steps

**I would love feedback from all of the people reading this story. Please, if you have the time, tell me what you like and don't like. Feel free to let me know if there are any problems and/or mistakes in what I've written.**

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This story does not follow any certain timeline. I've taken parts of the Fullmetal Alchemist story-line, but not everything is going to follow or has followed in any order in relation to it. If you are confused about anything, please feel free to ask. I am trying to make things as clear as possible.

**Thanks so much to those of you who are reading and following along. I really appreciate it.**

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**Chapter Two** – First Steps

Alphonse remembered exactly where the antique shop was. He'd made sure to take a good look at it and kept track of where he'd been going while he walked back to Central Headquarters. He was certain that he could take Mustang back there.

"That will be our first step, then," Mustang sighed, standing and heading towards the door of his office. He stopped at the coat rack and removed his jacket before pulling it on. "I'll need to alert Lieutenant Hawkeye, if that's alright with you?"

Alphonse nodded his head. "I trust her," he said. "I thought she was working for the Fuehrer, though."

Mustang shrugged his shoulders and opened the door. "After his disappearance, there wasn't much work for her to do, so she's been _helping_ me out down here."

Al had heard about the disappearance and it had been suggested that Mustang was possibly behind the entire situation, but there had never been absolute confirmation on the fact. The way Mustang's smug expression crept to the corners of his eyes and lips led Alphonse to believe that he'd just gotten his confirmation. "Well," he said after a moment too long. "That's good. I'm sure you're glad to have her back by your side."

Mustang regarded him for a moment before walking through the doorway and into Hawkeye's office. Alphonse thought Mustang's expression looked a little odd, as if he were confused as to why Al would have made that observation, but he didn't dwell on it. He had more important things to worry about, like figuring out where his brother was and how to rescue him.

Hawkeye stood to attention as they entered the smaller room, but Mustang waved the formalities off. "We have a situation," he told her. Her eyes briefly landed on Alphonse before she returned her attention to Mustang and listened to him tell her the entire problem. She didn't say anything, but Al could tell that she didn't question anything that the Colonel had said. If he believed Alphonse, that was enough for her, and Al appreciated not having to convince somebody else of his emotional attachment with his brother. Mustang had seen enough to know it to be true, but other people hadn't really been privy to it and it might be difficult to persuade them into believing that he might be able to _feel_ something wrong.

"I need you to continue on with the mission," Mustang told her. "But we might be forced to call on you for assistance."

"Of course," she said. "I'll take care of everything, Colonel. You two find Ed."

Mustang was glad that everyone at Central was so busy worrying over the Fuehrer to bother noticing him and a giant set of armor walking out of Headquarters. It didn't give him mush confidence in Central's ability to keep themselves safe, because _somebody_ should have done or said something, but for the time being he'd take it for his advantage. He really didn't need to have anybody ask him questions and nobody needed to pay attention be _aware_ of the fact that he was associating with Alphonse. That would cause people to wonder if he was associating with Edward and that would bring up a lot of questions after Fullmetal had basically disappeared months before. Mustang had always known that he was safe, from the minimal contact that they had all done, but he often found himself wondering what the young slchemist was doing and how he was holding up.

They made it safely out of Headquarters without so much as a curious glance from any of the soldiers and Mustang breathed a sigh of relief. He had opted to walk because he didn't want to draw attention by taking his car and getting Alphonse into it. He hoped it wouldn't be too far away.

They walked for about a mile in mostly silence. Mustang wasn't really sure what to say and Al was so wrapped up in thoughts of his brother that neither of them felt the need to speak at all. When they arrived at the little antique shop buried deeply inside one of Central's less than inhabitable alleyways, Mustang was surprised by how nervous Alphonse was beginning to seem. It was usually quite difficult to discern what emotion the younger Elric brother was feeling unless he spoke or expressed himself, but now he practically reeked of worry and fear and Mustang felt terrible. Alphonse had always been such a positive light to Edward's obsessive, erratic, and sometimes maddening behavior; Mustang hated to see that change. He hoped they would be able to find Edward quickly and that he would be without damage.

The store was quite when they walked in and Alphonse watched as Mustang looked around the small place for a few minutes, until the shop keeper emerged from a door that led to the presumable storage area. "Hello," he said. He offered him a mostly toothless smile and Mustang forced himself to smile back. The man didn't wait for a response, instead motioning to Alphonse. "I see you must be interested in that armor."

Mustang was confused for a moment, but then reasoned out that the shop keeper must not have been aware that the armor had moved from the store and that Alphonse was probably not standing in the same place the shop keeper had placed them. "Yes," Mustang confirmed. "I'm curious as to…who sold you this armor."

"Oh," the shop keeper waved his hand in the general direction of the door. "They were here just a few hours ago. A big guy, real fat, honestly, and a young boy. They were with another and if I didn't know better, I'd have thought he'd been drugged or something because he was quite groggy."

"What did he look like?" Alphonse demanded.

The shop keeper jumped and Mustang cringed inwardly as the man hit the wall behind him and brought his hand to his heart. "What the hell!" He cried.

"That is…my friend," Mustang said casually. "He collects these things, you see, and wanted to…try this one on." The situation was getting a bit out of control, now, and Mustang was becoming worried that it might escalate into something that they were not prepared to deal with. Scaring the poor shop keeper hadn't really been in his plans.

"You need to warn a man before you do things like that!" The shop keeper yelled. "I'm lucky I didn't have a heart attack."

"What did the person they were with look like?" Mustang pressed, wanting to get out of the shop as soon as possible and not really caring about the man's fright if he wasn't actually having any heart issues. He was going to have a lot more to worry about if they couldn't find Edward.

"He was little. Blond. I don't know, the fat one was carrying him so I couldn't get a look at him."

"And the child?" Mustang asked, cursing himself for how desperate he sounded. The shop keeper might get suspicious and they didn't need that.

"Black hair? Young. I don't know, why does it matter?"

"It doesn't," Mustang agreed, shaking his head a little. "We'll just be on our way, now." They needed to get out of there before they gave the man any more reason to call the authorities for how suspicious they were being. Nobody needed to know what they were up to. He started heading towards the door, Alphonse at his heels.

"Wait a minute!" The man yelled, just as Mustang was almost out of the shop. "You'll need to pay me for the suit!"


	4. Chapter Three: The Pain

**Thank you all for reading this story and leaving such lovely reviews. I'm so glad to know that people are enjoying this, thought I must warn you that it's about to get a bit more graphic and intense within the next batch of chapters. I hope you'll all keep reading, but I understand if you decide not to.**

Thank you again, and please let me know if you find any mistakes, or just drop me a line to let me know how you're feeling about the story so far.

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Chapter Three – The Pain

Edward could not take the pain anymore. He couldn't understand how he was still alive when his body had obviously suffered some serious injuries for him to feel as he did. His leg and arm felt like they had been ripped clean off all over again and if that were the case – and he was starting to believe it to be true – he had to have lost a lot of blood. Too much to still be alive. There was other pain, too, but he was too focused on his arm and leg to discern anything else.

He couldn't see anything. After the initial shock of the bright light, a blindfold had been roughly tied around his head, effectively blinding him. He wondered who was there because he could hear someone or some_thing_ moving around the room when he was able to stop thinking about the pain for a moment. He had spent some time screaming, yelling useless threats and obscenities, until his voice was hoarse and he had exhausted himself. He had no idea what was going on but he was terrified. He was going to die. He was _dying_. He could feel it, his life slipping away from him while he hung there, unable to see or even _move_.

After trying to struggle free for almost the hundredth time, he let his body fall slack and shuddered in pain. A choked sob escaped his throat before he wailed, hopeless and pathetic, shaking in his binds. Whoever or _what_ever was behind this wasn't going to let him go. It was pointless for him to waste his energy. He had to bide his time and figure out how to escape. Unless he died first.

His throat ached and his mouth was so dry, it was almost as unbearable as the pain he felt in his arm and leg. There was no way for him to know how much time had passed, but he was exhausted. His pain was too great for him to even consider sleeping, but he wondered how much longer his body and mind would last before he passed out.

Suddenly, there was a loud noise – a door closing, he gathered – followed by complete silence, only broken by his shaky breaths. Whoever or whatever had been in the room with him was now gone. Even though he'd been terrified of what they were going to do with him, he felt even more frightened alone in the room. Whatever was going to happen to him, he wished it would happen already because the not knowing and the wondering was driving him insane.

What _did_ they want? What did they plan on doing to him? Did they plan to leave him there, hanging and bleeding – because he knew he was bleeding, he could feel it, now, as he had slowly adjusted to the pain – until he gradually faded away into nothing? Were they planning on releasing him at some point, or did they intend to keep him there, even if he did not parish? If that were their plan, and that was what he was most worried about, he couldn't help contemplating what else they intended to do, how else they planned to make him suffer.

Where was _Alphonse_? He had been trying to avoid that thought because he didn't want to think of his brother suffering as he was, or worse. Al obviously couldn't feel proper human pain, but it wasn't impossible to make him feel emotional turmoil. It wouldn't be too difficult to hurt him, to _kill_ him if someone or something were inclined to puncture the blood seal in the armor. Edward had to believe that Alphonse was still alive and that he was _okay_ because he was sure he'd know if something was wrong, he'd _have_ to know. If something happened to Al, Ed wasn't sure he'd be able to forgive himself.

He decided that he'd have to deal with the agony he was in. He would have to suck it up and bear it because he had to get out of the situation alive. There were things he had to do, promises he had to keep, and he wasn't going to let _pain_ get in the way of everything he still had left to accomplish. He refused to die, not like that, and promised himself that he'd take whatever they threw at him and figure out a way to get free. He had to. There were too many people counting on him for him to give up for something as trivial as pain.


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